


giving the devil his due

by TwoMenAndAGuava (drakkynfyre47)



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Disordered Eating, Gen, Self-Esteem Issues, Vomiting, vaguely codywan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-20
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-11-03 00:59:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10956384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drakkynfyre47/pseuds/TwoMenAndAGuava
Summary: *projects own food issues onto obiwan*might write more of this later?





	1. Chapter 1

It’s not that he _likes_ not eating. It’s just that he forgets, sometimes. He doesn’t get hungry, not really, not until it’s been a day and a half and he gets dizzy when he stands up too fast.

So it goes on, with him eating less and less as the war rages on, and he struggles to make himself eat.

There are more important things than eating regularly, Obi-wan thinks. Things like making sure his troops don’t die. Things like keeping Anakin safe. Things like sleeping. So he trades breakfast for an extra half hour of sleep, trades lunch for time with Anakin, trades dinner for going over battle plans with Cody.

He’s losing weight. Not a lot, not enough to be noticeable, but still, it’s happening. Which is fine, because last time he’d sat down to eat one of the troopers had made a side comment off to one of his brothers that the general could do to lay off the ration packs. Intellectually, Obi-wan knew it was a reference to his tendency to show up to meetings with ration packs, because he abhorred when people left them sitting on tables. But that didn’t mean his brain would let him acknowledge that, and he scraped his food onto Cody’s plate and walked away.

When he does eat, he feels guilty about it. He can’t stop the words running around in his head, the voice in his ear that says, _How can you eat when there are people starving? How can you eat when you don’t deserve it? You’ve done nothing today, you’ve let your troops die, you don’t deserve to eat._

Sometimes, after he forces himself to choke down most of his meal with Anakin and Ahsoka or Cody after a battle, he heads back to his quarters and vomits. He doesn’t want to throw up, he knows he needs the nutrition, but he can’t keep it down. On those days he feels even guiltier, because then he’s wasting food that could have gone to someone worthwhile.

After this, he begins forcing himself to skip meals more often. At first it’s only once every few days, only on bad brain days or when he has a lot of work to get done. But slowly it becomes a habit, slowly he starts wanting to eat less and wanting to not-eat more.

It’s worst in the mornings. He wakes up, takes a shower, and goes straight to work, doesn’t eat until the middle of the afternoon. By that time he’s hungry, and he wants to eat and eat and eat until he can’t physically eat any more. But he doesn’t, because he doesn’t deserve it, not if he’s just going to go through the same process again the next day.

He nearly collapses in the middle of briefing Cody on their next mission. Cody doesn’t say anything, but gives him a Look that means he’ll be watching to make sure Obi-wan doesn’t get worse.

Obi-wan smiles at him, in his best impression of reassuring. _I don’t deserve your concern,_ he wants to say. _Don’t look at me,_ he wants to say. _I’m awful,_ he wants to say. “I’m fine,” he says.

Cody frowns, but doesn’t say anything.

Obi-wan doesn’t eat dinner. Instead, he meditates before going to bed, and then he curls up, shivering, to sleep.

When he wakes up he can already tell it’s a bad brain day. He feels nauseous and lightheaded, and he doesn’t have the energy for his regular morning routine. He forces himself to swallow a few mouthfuls of water, and when he manages to keep that down, makes himself eat the corner of a ration bar.

He throws up almost immediately. He’s on his hands and knees on the floor, coughing and retching too hard to hear the door slide open.

When someone puts a hand on his back he flinches. He doesn’t want to be seen like this, in this vulnerable state, but it seems he has no choice right now. When he speaks, Cody’s voice is quiet, pitched lower than usual, the way he talks to shinies who are shaking after their first battle.

“Sir,” Cody says, “you’ve got to take care of yourself.” Despite the honorific there’s no deference in his tone; he’ll brook no argument here. Obi-wan tries to say something, but there’s a cup of water being pushed against his mouth, and he takes it and tries not to feel humiliated about this whole thing.

With Cody supporting him, Obi-wan sits back down on his bed. “Sorry,” he starts, but Cody shushes him.

“No,” Cody says, forestalling any argument. “Not until you tell me what’s wrong, General.”

“I’m fine,” Obi-wan says reflexively, then realizes how ridiculous that sounds, especially because Cody’s still got a hand on his chest to make sure he doesn’t go anywhere. “I just - haven’t eaten in awhile, and I got dizzy.”

Cody’s brow furrows. “Sir. General, no offense, but that doesn’t just happen when you skip one meal.”

“It’s been almost three days,” Obi-wan admits. “Since I’ve been to the mess. I’ve had some sweets and caf, to make sure I could keep going, but nothing substantial for almost three days.”

Cody looks murderous. “Why not?”

Obi-wan shrugs helplessly. “I don’t know,” he says. “I forgot, I think.” That’s partially true; he hadn’t noticed he’d gone on an unintentional fast until yesterday evening. 

He watches Cody consciously take a step back mentally and reorganize his thoughts. He doesn’t smile, because that wouldn’t be appropriate, but he’s really glad this part of him is what rubbed off on his commander.

“General Kenobi,” Cody says finally, “I think it would be a good idea for you to take the next few days off.”

“We’ve got to meet up with Anakin and I have to report to the Council and -”

“The Jedi Council can darn well wait until you can stand up!” Cody says with surprising venom. He takes a deep breath. “General, you need to be in good shape if you’re going into battle. We can’t have you be a liability. And you need to eat. I’ll bring you food if I have to.”

“Please don’t do that,” Obi-wan says. “That’s undignified.”

“Then you have to promise me you’ll eat on your own,” Cody says seriously. “We can’t afford to be taking care of ourselves and you and the battles.”

“I know, Cody,” Obi-wan says quietly. “I’m trying, okay?”

Cody looks at him, then finally nods. “Okay, sir.”


	2. Chapter 2

Obi-wan does try to change his eating habits. He does his best, makes sure he sets timers for himself to eat and sticks to them, even if it’s just a few bites of ration bar. Things get better, and slowly his weight creeps back up and he eats three times a day.

Cody smiles approvingly every time he walks past Obi-wan in the mess. It makes Obi-wan feel better, knowing that Cody thinks he’s doing well.

But then they lose a battle, get trounced so badly the Council takes Obi-wan off active rotation for a week, and he stops eating again. His forced vacation only means there’s no Cody to tell him that it’s okay to eat, no Anakin to look at him disapprovingly if he works through lunch and dinner, no one around to disappoint.

By the time he’s put back on active duty he’s right back in the same headspace he started in. When he doesn’t deserve to eat, he doesn’t, and he drops the weight he’d managed to regain, and he’s gotten used to avoiding people who might get concerned again.

There are good days that wind up turning into bad days. Obi-wan hates himself more those days, because at least on all-bad days, he has the excuse that he hasn’t slept well, or that he’s worried about Anakin, or just that he’s not doing well. But when he wakes up feeling decent, and manages to eat something before attending to his general duties, but then in the afternoon starts feeling sick and disgusted with himself, there’s nothing for him to fall back on.

Today he feels alternately nauseous and hungry. He knows he needs to eat, knows he needs to stay on top of his game and that when he doesn’t eat his mind gets cloudy, but he doesn’t really care. He hasn’t eaten today, didn't eat much yesterday either, so his head feels fuzzy and his stomach keeps reminding him that it needs attention, but he pushes the thoughts away. He needs to focus on this battle plan, needs to make sure everyone comes out of it in one piece.

“Excuse me,” he says, when the nausea rears its head again in the middle of a briefing. “I’ll just be a moment.”

He practically runs out of the room, and no sooner does he make it to the safety of a refresher than he’s on his hands and knees, gagging. There’s nothing in his stomach to throw up, so he doesn’t end up making the floor a mess, but he’s still struggling to keep it together.

For a moment he desperately wishes Cody was there, a strong arm wrapped around him to keep him stable and secure. But he quickly crushes that desire, traps it under a mountain of self hate and the knowledge that he doesn’t deserve to have that kind of physical comfort he needs.

Head hanging down, he breathes deeply until the nausea relents enough for him to stand. He cups his hands under the tap, taking a single mouthful of water and then spitting it out. He looks at himself in the mirror - he looks tired, more so than usual, so he splashes water on his face and smooths down his beard. Right. Now that he looks presentable and not like he’s just been on the floor trying to vomit, he heads out of the room and back to the bridge.

Cody frowns at him behind Anakin’s back. Obi-wan folds his arms and focuses pointedly on what Anakin’s saying. Rex catches Cody’s eye, and Cody just shakes his head. Obi-wan ignores them - it’s not worth trying to understand everything they can communicate with just a look.

After the meeting Anakin corners him. “Are you okay?”

Obi-wan frowns. “Of course, Anakin, why wouldn’t I be?”

“You left in the middle of the briefing. You never do that.” Anakin plants his hands on his hips. “Tell me what’s going on, Master.”

“Everything is fine,” Obi-wan says. “I got a little nauseous. Something I ate didn’t agree with me.” That’s… not quite the truth because he hasn’t eaten anything for the past day or so. Still, he feels guilty about lying to Anakin, so he says, “I’m fine. Don’t worry,” and pats him on the shoulder. He walks away with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, something more than the usual emptiness of not having eaten.

As punishment he doesn’t eat dinner, and goes to bed wrapped in blankets and misery.

When he wakes up, he realizes that he feels good today. Better than he has in weeks, probably. So he heads to the mess, sits across from Anakin, grabs a fork and starts stuffing as much of his ration into his mouth as possible, before he starts feeling sick at the mere thought of food. 

“Whoa, slow down!” Anakin says, laughing. “There’s no real rush.”

“Late for a meeting with Cody,” Obi-wan lies, around a mouthful of protein mush.

“You’re the general,” Anakin points out. “Not him. He can wait for you.”

“No,” Obi-wan says, and suddenly in the middle of chewing the food turns to ash in his mouth and he wants to throw up. “I’ve got to go,” he says, forcing himself to swallow. “See you for the battle.”

He scrapes the rest of his meal onto Ahsoka’s plate - she’s always hungry, it seems - and leaves the mess, running his fingers along the wall to keep himself steady as he does so. Falling over would be very inconvenient.

He decides that throwing up would not be a good idea, so he heads back to his quarters, curls up in a corner, and rocks back and forth until he doesn’t feel sick any more.


	3. Chapter 3

He takes a sip of the thin broth Cody’s brought him, and it tastes good. He looks up, surprised, and Cody’s soft smile catches him off guard. “How-”

“You have the kitchen staff wrapped around your fingers, General. All I had to do was say you weren’t feeling well and they offered to make you soup.” Cody crosses his arms over his chest. 

“It’s good,” Obi-wan says, feeling strangely disconnected from his body. 

“You sound surprised,” Cody says lightly. “Not everything is protein mush.”

“Yes,” Obi-wan says, because he doesn’t know what else to say. “Thank you, Cody.”

“Just doing my job, General,” Cody says, eyes flicking down to the floor in - embarrassment? Obi-wan can’t read him right now, which is a little unsettling, but he ignores it in favor of another spoonful of broth.

“You’ve done more than your job, Cody,” he says. “You shouldn’t have to take care of me like this.”

“It’s not a problem,” Cody insists. “Look, General, you need to take care of yourself. And if you’re not going to, I will, because we need you.” He makes as if to reach out to Obi-wan, but stops himself as he remembers that this is a Jedi, not one of his brothers.

Obi-wan aches for contact, and Cody’s aborted gesture hasn’t helped. “Thank you,” he says again, and takes another mouthful of soup. “So. Tell me what shenanigans Anakin’s been getting up to while I was asleep?” He’d given his comms unit to Cody so he wasn’t tempted to stay up doing work the previous evening.

Cody produces the comm and hands it over. “Well, General Skywalker seems to have hit a wall with the Seppies,” he says. “But that’s not stopping him. Rex says -” and he stops. “Captain Rex informs me,” he corrects himself, “that he’s still determined to break the blockade. He’s hoping we can reinforce his position sooner than scheduled.”

Obi-wan makes himself swallow the broth that suddenly tastes bitter. Cody’s slip - referring to Rex by name without rank - makes him remember the injustice of it all, the fact that the clones would never be able to live out a normal life, that they were created to die in battle, that there was no way he’d ever be able to have a real, equal relationship with any of them as friends and confidantes. He sets the bowl down and forces a smile. “Very good, Cody. I’ll be up on the bridge in a few moments; I’ve just got to find some fresh robes.”

Taking it as the dismissal it was, Cody stood immediately and left the room, presumably to find some shinies to discipline or wrangle his brothers into some sort of order.

Obi-wan pushes open the door to the refresher, leans on the frame, and takes a deep breath through his nose. He’s very nauseous, which isn’t unusual when he starts thinking about how the clone troopers under his command are going to die. He tries to think about it rationally, how he as a commander can’t afford to be indecisive, can’t afford to place the lives of his men above the mission objectives. But it’s hard, when you’ve recently realized that the power dynamic between you and your soldiers is irreversibly kriffed.

He drops to his knees, and starts retching, trying to cleanse himself of the thoughts of harming himself. The door opens, and he doesn’t look up, because he’s already too deep in self hate and misery to care whether someone sees him like this.

“Please leave,” he says between coughing and the bitter taste of bile in his mouth.

“Nope,” Cody says. “Sorry, sir, but I can’t do that. You’ve got to believe me, General, when I tell you that you’ve got nothing to feel guilty about. You’re not worthless. You’re doing everything you can to end this war. People are dying, sure, but it’s not on your hands.”

Obi-wan settles back on his heels. “Cody…”

Cody tips his head to one side quizzically, catlike. “Sir?”

He turns to look at his commander. “Please,” he says, and he’s not really sure whether he wants Cody to stay or go, but whichever it is he needs it _now_.

Cody finally gives up trying to figure out whether it’s appropriate to treat his general like a brother, and then Obi-wan’s crushed in a hug, face pressed into Cody’s chest plate and a strong arm wrapped securely around his waist. His arms come up involuntarily, holding on tightly as if he’s drowning and Cody’s a life preserver.

Cody’s muttering soft words in a combination of Mando’a, Basic, and Kaminoan. It’s the same patois the troopers use among themselves when comforting each other, and Obi-wan feels even more ungrateful, because Cody’s giving of himself and his culture, sharing it with an outsider who has hurt and killed thousands of his brothers. But he lets himself have this brief moment of peace, lets himself lean into Cody, lets his commander rub soothing circles on his back. 

“Cody,” Obi-wan says, after a long moment of silence. “Cody. I need to go to the bridge.”

Cody doesn’t say anything, but releases his general for a moment, then brings their foreheads together. “Promise me something,” he says. “Tell me, when you feel like this. Tell me you’re not doing well. Just say something so I don’t have to come in and see you like this again. Sir,” he adds belatedly, pulling back and looking down. “Sorry, General. That was out of line.”

“No,” Obi-wan says, “you’re not out of line. I promise I will do my best to let you know when I’m not myself, but you need to promise me something too. You have got to take care of yourself and the men. Don’t ever sacrifice that because of something I do or say.”

“But,” Cody starts, and stops, because Obi-wan’s eyebrows draw down like he’s about to launch into a lecture. “Yes, sir.”

“Good man,” Obi-wan says, and pulls on his robe. “Let’s go, Cody.”


End file.
